Duane's PoeTree

Monday, March 19, 2018

The face in the mirror is a stranger
It smiles back at me mocking
As I strike at it
Wanting to wipe off its
All-knowing smirk
My hand bleeds from the shards
And still the mocking smile
Reflects in the million pieces
Complacent in its immortality
Joyful in its survival
Dazed, I wonder at the blindness
Of it
The insanity has spread
I realise.

Rima the Bird GirlYou could be Rima the birdgirl except for your fear of height. Quetzalcoatl perhaps or the peaceable dove, except for your fear of flight. Victor beyond doubt and still have eyes, ears, teeth, and snout, except for your fear of rout. A place in heaven, soul food, and a golden cup, except for your fear of up. If you could choose your method, the means would find the way, except, of course, for your fear of day. Death is always open; it might well be well, except for your fear of hell. The list is endless, but the end is near: you might consider your fear of fear.